


Quaranteeny Fic Week

by BlueLineGoon



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bittersweet, Briefs Family, Briefs Family Holiday, Cruise Ships, Disappointment, False Identity, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Funny, Gen, Haircuts, Heartwarming, Holidays, Humor, Ice Cream, Mistakes, Moral Dilemmas, Moral Lessons, One Word Prompts, Other, Reminiscing, Shopping, Slice of Life, Summer, Vegeta being Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Vessel, Weekly Challenge, barbershop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23172904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueLineGoon/pseuds/BlueLineGoon
Summary: A collection of small ficlets, though the last two are slightly longer. Light-hearted, humorous bits of daily-life fluff. Each chapter is self-contained.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Chi-Chi/Son Goku (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	1. Day 1: Vessel

**Author's Note:**

> Stuck inside for at least a week due to the outbreak of COVID-19. Decided to make the most of my time and issue myself a Weekly Writing Prompt Challenge. I'll be writing ficlets based on the following one word prompts each day for a week.  
> Day 1: Vessel  
> Day 2: Barbershop  
> Day 3: Change  
> Day 4: Indecision  
> Day 5: Memory  
> Day 6: Window
> 
> Just found out I'll be stuck inside for at least another week, so keep checking back for another Weekly Writing Challenge.

Day 1: Vessel  
“It’s a pleasure cruise, dummy. There ARE no weapons.”  
Bulma's mild scolding did nothing to budge the frown etched across Vegetas brow. He held up a pamphlet titled “SIX STAR CRUISES” and read from it.  
“The pride of our fleet, the Cabana boasts cutting edge technology and, as the flagship of our Northern Fleet, comes equipped with our most well-trained and diligent crew.”  
Bulma held up her hands, questioningly.  
“Yeah, and?” she said  
“What sort of flagship is this supposed to be?” he flicked angrily through the brochure, smacking the pages for emphasis “No training facilities, no armories, not a single plasma cannon or shield array. What the hell kind of fleet could this floating marshmallow command?!”  
“When I said ‘holiday,’ did you really think we were going to spend it on a battleship?”  
Vegeta said nothing, only scoffed, and folded his arms.  
“C’mon dad, it’ll be fun!” Trunks said, pulling at his father’s arm. “Besides, if we don’t get onboard before noon, we’ll miss the lunch buffet!”


	2. Day 2: Barbershop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krillin has his weekly routine interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuck inside for at least a week due to the outbreak of COVID-19. Decided to make the most of my time and issue myself a Weekly Writing Prompt Challenge. I'll be writing ficlets based on the following one word prompts each day for a week.  
> Day 1: Vessel  
> Day 2: Barbershop  
> Day 3: Change  
> Day 4: Indecision  
> Day 5: Memory  
> Day 6: Window

Day 2: Barbershop

Krillin let the soft sounds of Timo's Barbershop waft over him as he relaxed, eyes shut, in the chair. It was Tuesday, not his usual time to get his head shaved, but he had to work overtime at the precinct and Timo had always been good about moving reservations. The air smelled of aftershave and gentle disinfectant, and there was soft jazz playing over the radio. He breathed deeply, enjoying his weekly ritual. The bell above the door tinkled, announcing a new arrival.  
“Krillin.”  
A warm baritone pronounced his name in greeting, and his eyes snapped open.  
“Tien?” Krillin asked, surprised.  
“I’ve never seen you in Timo's before.” Tien said. “First time?”  
“No, I’m a regular. Overtime this week, had to move my appointment.”  
“Tien!” Timo called out, “Come in, sit down! The usual?”  
“That would be great, thank you.” Tien replied.  
He sat in the chair next to Krillin.  
“It’s good to see you, Krillin.” Tien said.  
“You too!” Krillin replied. “I know everyone has been busy lately. Small world, running into each other like this.”  
“Not so small, I’d say. Timo is the best at what he does.”  
“I heard that, you charmer!” Timo called from the opposite side of the shop, “be with you boys in a few moments.”  
The pleasant silence resumed, and Krillin closed his eyes once more as Timo bustled over, finished with his other client.  
He breathed deeply, savouring the luxurious scent as Timo applied his favourite shaving cream to his scalp; notes of orange, spice, and oak tingled his nostrils. The straight razor went to work and he slid into a trance, enjoying the soft metallic sounds and the cleansing sensation. The bell interrupted his reverie once more, and he cracked one eye to look at the door.  
Walking carefully through the door, a look of aloof disdain etched across his face, was Vegeta. Behind him bounced a young Trunks, babbling excitedly to his father.  
“…so then Brian bet there was NO way that I could eat TWO fistfuls of worms so I ate THREE and I didn’t even puke but then HE puked and then…”  
“Mr. Vegeta!” Timo called. “so nice to see you! And hello Trunks, would you like a lolli?”  
Trunks took the sweet and set to work on it, falling as silent as his father.  
Krillin and Tien exchanged a glance and a raised pair of eyebrows, but said nothing.  
 _What is HE doing here? He’s always talking about how Saiyan hair never needs to be cut._ Krillin looked around for Bulma, or an enemy, or any reason to explain the Saiyan Prince's presence.  
“The usual, Mr. Vegeta?” Timo asked brightly.  
Vegeta gave a grunt of approval. He refused to acknowledge Tien and Krillin, but Trunks finally noticed them, and piped up.  
“Hey Tien! Hey Krillin!”  
The young half-Saiyan bounded up between them, his broad, genuinely pleased grin a mirror to his mothers.  
“Hey kiddo.” Krillin said, giving him a fist bump.  
“Hey Trunks.” Tien said, showing a rare smile.  
“Why are you guys here?”  
“Well, I get my head shaved once a week. It’s nice, kind of relaxing yaknow?” Krillin said.  
“Huh.”  
He looked over at Tien, who gestured in agreement. Trunks thought for a few moments.  
“I thought you guys were just bald.”


	3. Day 3: Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks and Goten learn a valuable lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuck inside for at least a week due to the outbreak of COVID-19. Decided to make the most of my time and issue myself a Weekly Writing Prompt Challenge. I'll be writing ficlets based on the following one word prompts each day for a week.  
> Day 1: Vessel  
> Day 2: Barbershop  
> Day 3: Change  
> Day 4: Indecision  
> Day 5: Memory  
> Day 6: Window

Day 3: Change  
"How much have you got?" Trunks thrust a fistful of coins under Goten's nose.  
"That's not much." Goten said. "Did you check ALL the couches?"  
"Even the ones in the office! Mom keeps the place so clean!"  
The boys sat in the shade of an umbrella , looking longingly across the square where a vendor was selling ice cream. The sun beat down, bright and hot onto the cobbles.  
"It's so unfair!" Trunks lamented, "mom said just because I punched stupid Brian I don't get money for snacks for a week! A whole WEEK!"  
"My mom says that ice cream is for special occasions." Goten said.  
"Did you tell her that it’s SUPER hot?"  
"She said if I was hot that I could help her clean the freezer." Goten looked at his feet, "I hate the big freezer. It stinks!"  
"Brian said you can't make kids work. It's illegal or something." Trunks said.  
He paused, scratching his chin thoughtfully.  
"But Brian is pretty stupid. So he might be wrong." Trunks finished with a sigh.  
The suns rays painted a rainbow in the fine spray from the fountain at the square’s center. The water splashed and babbled happily in the early afternoon.  
“Hey, Trunks,” Goten said, pointing, “there’s money in the fountain, isn’t there?”  
“Hey, you’re right!”  
Trunks leapt to his feet. The two boys ran over and peered into the small fountain. Sure enough, a glittering array of coins lay spread out across the blue tile, winking from beneath the rippling surface.  
“Are we allowed to take it?” Goten asked quietly.  
“Well, people just throw it in here, right?” Trunks asked rhetorically, “So if you throw something away that means you don’t want it anymore!”  
Goten looked back and forth between Trunks, the coins, and the ice cream vendor.  
Goten thrust a hand into the cool water and seized a fistful of coins from the bottom of the fountain. He began to withdraw it when, halfway to the surface, a familiar voice startled the two of them.  
“Hey Trunks, hey Goten!” Krillin said, “whatcha up to?”  
Trunks swiftly stepped between Goten and Krillin.  
“Hey Krillin! Just, uh, enjoying the fountain!”  
Goten paused, his prize clenched in his fist, and turned to face Krillin. He was on duty, wearing his police blues, and he looked down at them. They couldn’t meet his eye, and Goten pulled his hand behind his back, glancing quickly over to the ice cream stand, with its bright blue umbrella.  
“Ah, I see.” Krillin said “Goten, put the coins back, they’re not yours.”  
“But people just throw them…“ Trunks began.  
Krillin held up a hand to silence him.  
“They’re not yours to take. We collect the money from there once every couple weeks and give it to the hospital.”  
Goten let the fistful of coins fall back into the water with a gentle splash. Krillin crouched down, bringing himself eye to eye with the two. He smiled.  
“Now, you two look like you could use some ice cream.”


	4. Day 4: Indecision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goku helps out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuck inside for at least a week due to the outbreak of COVID-19. Decided to make the most of my time and issue myself a Weekly Writing Prompt Challenge. I'll be writing ficlets based on the following one word prompts each day for a week.  
> Day 1: Vessel  
> Day 2: Barbershop  
> Day 3: Change  
> Day 4: Indecision  
> Day 5: Memory  
> Day 6: Window

Goku stared into the shop window, his eyes flitting back and forth over the cakes and pastries arranged in the colourful display. He screwed up his face in concentration, examining each and every morsel closely.  
“Goku.” Piccolo said tersely, “we’ve been staring at the window case for fifty minutes. Should we at least go inside the shop?”  
“Gee, d’ye think they’ll have more to choose from inside?” Goku asked  
“I would say so, yes.” Piccolo answered.  
Goku gave a long, exasperated sigh and sank to his knees, head in hands.  
Piccolo growled in frustration.  
“How am I supposed to pick just ONE?” Goku lamented, “They ALL look so good!”  
“You could, I don’t know, PICK ONE!” Picollo snapped.  
“C’mon Piccolo, help me out here! Which one would YOU pick?”  
“Goku, for the third time, I don’t eat!”  
“Chichi said I needed to get the cake for Goten’s birthday and that it had to be PERFECT!”  
“And somehow I’m here too.”  
“You’re one of the smartest people I know!” Goku protested. “Which one would you pick?”  
“Goku!” Piccolo rounded on him, fists clenching. “We’ve been here for ages, would you just pick a cake already?”  
“Hello boys.”  
Goku and Piccolo turned to see Chichi striding down the shopping street towards them, all smiles. Goku choked.  
“Uh, hey, hi Chichi!” Goku said, scrambling. “I uh, well, I…”  
“Haven’t picked a cake yet?” Chichi said sweetly.  
“Um…no.” Goku admitted, looking at his feet.  
Chichi stepped in close and planted a small kiss on his cheek.  
“That’s all right. I ordered one days ago, I’m here to pick it up.”  
“But, but, but…” Goku sputtered.  
“Goku I needed to get the house ready for our son’s birthday party, and the best thing you could do was be out of the way. Now let’s get home. I made beef noodle soup and steamed buns.”


	5. Day 5: Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Vegeta discuss the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuck inside for at least a week due to the outbreak of COVID-19. Decided to make the most of my time and issue myself a Weekly Writing Prompt Challenge. I'll be writing ficlets based on the following one word prompts each day for a week.  
> Day 1: Vessel  
> Day 2: Barbershop  
> Day 3: Change  
> Day 4: Indecision  
> Day 5: Memory  
> Day 6: Window

“Do you remember what it was like?” Bulma asked.

There was a beat of silence in the darkened bedroom. From where her head lay on Vegetas scarred chest, she could hear his heart beat, so slowly, almost lazily, conserving energy.

“I lived in the army barracks.” He said, finally. “Father thought it would be a good environment to cultivate my Saiyan spirit.”

She wrinkled her nose.

“I’ve got a wear a respirator doing gym laundry from just you and Trunks, what would a Saiyan barracks even smell like?”

Two soft smiles.

She waited. He always got talkative at night. Sex or no, he seemed more at ease. Maybe it was so he could pretend she wasn’t there, convince himself that he was baring his soul to a rapt audience of moonbeams.

“He refused to let me stay with the Elite Guard, told me time among the low-ranking warriors would ‘let me appreciate the lowest of my subjects, and understand the importance and nature of rank.’”

“Your dad sounds like a real piece of work.”

Vegeta made a scoffing noise. She felt Vegeta inhale. The muscles of his chest rippled as competing emotions rode the long breath through his body. After a moment, he exhaled and, to her surprise, kept talking.

“There were eight others, low-rank warriors. That’s where I first met Kakarot's brother.”

“Raditz? Was he as much of a dick back then, too?”

Vegeta laughed softly.

“He went through a phase where he wouldn’t wash his hair. It had reached the point that Nappa suggested he could take a planet himself, just using the stench of his unwashed hair.”

Bulma half-faked gagging.

“The rest of the barracks shared your sentiments. It lasted nearly five weeks. We gave him a final warning before Kohl and Birn dragged him down the kennels and threw him into the auto-groomer.”

“They drew the short straws I’m guessing?”

“They volunteered. He came out fighting, smelling like lye, and wearing a new hound collar. Nearly killed the pair of them before Nappa calmed him down.”

She laughed softly, and felt his chest rise and fall with a soft sigh.

Silence reigned.

“Do you ever miss them?” Bulma ventured.

The heart under her ear skipped a beat.

“No.”

_Liar._

“What happened to them?”

The chest tightened again, but this time did not relax as he answered.

“Scouting mission gone awry. They ran into a squadron of Galactic Patrol troopers. I had been permitted to return to the palace by then, and was not present for the battle. When I received word, I dispatched Nappa and a squad of warriors to aid them but…only Raditz survived.”

She said nothing, only wrapped herself tighter around him and squeezed. It was a bearhug, with all her strength behind it, but she was sure it felt gentle to his hard Saiyan bones.

“Goodnight, Vegeta.”

“Goodnight.”


	6. Day 6: Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An open window brings in an unexpected guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuck inside for at least a week due to the outbreak of COVID-19. Decided to make the most of my time and issue myself a Weekly Writing Prompt Challenge. I'll be writing ficlets based on the following one word prompts each day for a week.  
> Day 1: Vessel  
> Day 2: Barbershop  
> Day 3: Change  
> Day 4: Indecision  
> Day 5: Memory  
> Day 6: Window
> 
> Went a little overboard today. The idea ran away from me, ended up longer than I usually write. I also found out I'll be stuck here for another week so keep checking back for another weekly prompt challenge!

Day 6: Window

The stretches of green, rolling hills and woodlands crawled by far below as Trunks leaned against the window of his mother’s capsule jet. In the cockpit he could hear her chatting quietly to her co-pilot, Oolong. He fiddled with the window controls, letting in a sharp whistle of icy-cold high-altitude air before shutting it, over and over.

_Whirr. Whoosh. Whirr. Click._

After nearly a minute, he heard Vegeta clear his throat from his seat.

“Don’t play with the window. You may be able to fly, but if you fall out while we’re crossing the pole at this altitude, you’ll freeze to death before your mother can turn around to rescue you.”

Trunks closed the window for the final time and lapsed into silence. He was bored, but knew better than to tell his father that. He’d made that mistake only once, and spent the next hour running callisthenic and agility drills until Vegeta decided he was sufficiently cured of malaise. Instead, he folded his hands in his lap and tried to sit still, meditating like Dende had once tried to teach him.

He sat perfectly still, focusing on the rise and fall of his breath. He prepared himself for image training, a technique he learned from Krillin, to train when space was at a premium. He conjured up some mental adversaries, scrolling through the catalogue in his own personal choose-your-fighter screen. He settled on Goten, who he always had trouble with. He fought bout after bout in his mind, calling on the intrinsic memories of Goten’s techniques buried in his instincts from hours upon hours of sparring.

As usual, he and Goten were nearly even, taking one bout a piece. As he settled in for the third, his concentration was interrupted by a high-pitched buzz. He tried to block it out, but heard something whizz past his ear and his eyes snapped open. Nothing. He listened, straining to hear over the muted rush of the jets engines.

At the far end of the cargo bay, strapped into jump seats next to the rear door, Goten and Goku were in the midst of an intense game of rock-paper-scissors. Across the plane’s wide seating area from his place at the window sat his father. Vegeta reclined, eyes shut, hands tucked behind his head, apparently asleep.

“Dad, I think there’s a bee in here.” Trunks said.

Vegeta cracked one eye open and considered Trunks.

“Don’t be absurd. Insects can’t survive at these altitudes. You must be imagining things.”

He closed his eyes again and Trunk was left in doubt. Maybe he HAD imagined it. Surely, a bee couldn’t have caught up with the jet and come inside when he opened the window.

In a few minutes of silent contemplation, he had nearly talked himself out of having ever heard it at all, and the itch of boredom returned. Trunks cast his eyes around the otherwise empty plane, and grinned.

He focused, breathing slowly. Gently, he lowered his ki until it was a soft, slow pulse, quieter and smaller than an ant, making himself invisible to the keen warrior senses of his father and Goku. Slipping out of his running shoes, he lowered himself to the deck, his sock feet making little more than a whisper as he crept across the plane. When he was just within reach, he extended a hand towards his father’s nose, intent on surprising him.

Vegeta’s eyes snapped open, flickering with both amusement and annoyance.

“You’ll have to do better than that. You sounded only slightly louder than a troop of Zoon-seijin Assault Troopers.”

Vegeta scoffed and closed his eyes once more.

“Next time, don’t bother waking me unless the ship’s going down.”

Trunks smirked and returned to his seat, intent on trying again. Suddenly, a flicker of movement near the rear of the plane caught his eye. He whirled around, eyes darting back and forth until he saw it. A small blur of movement, dancing around Goten’s head.

“Goten!” He called. “There’s a bee!”

“Ah!” Goku screamed and threw up his hands, “I hate bees!”

Goten leapt up from his seat, but forgot to release the safety buckle, and only made it a few inches before the seatbelt hurled him back into place.

“Ow.” He said softly.

Trunks darted forward, extending a hand to catch the insect. It dodged to one side, and his fingers curled around air. Goten had gotten free of his seatbelt and followed him.

“Don’t kill it!” Goten said, “we’ve got to put it back outside!”

The two half-Saiyans chased it around the cargo hold, hot on its proverbial heels. But each time they reached out to grab it, it put on an impossible burst of speed and dodged clear. After a few minutes, both boys were panting with exertion.

“Trunks,” Goten gasped, “I’m not sure that’s a bee.”

“Screw this!” Trunks shouted. He released his ki, feeling the resulting strength surge through his limbs in an electric rush.

Trunks leapt up and pushed off the wall with both feet, launching himself forward with a burst of ki. He sailed clear and true towards the idly circling insect, his hand outstretched. At the last second, the small bug wreathed itself in a halo of light, and darted in, past Trunks’s guard. He felt the blow land on his chin, not hard, but enough to knock him off balance and send him tumbling head over heels into his mother’s neatly stacked suitcases, sending them cascading down in a heap.

“Haha gotcha!” A familiar voice called from the glowing aura, “you’re quick, but I’m still the fastest in the Northern Galaxy!

“Oh, hi Gregory!” Goku said amiably, “what’re you doin’ here?”

“S’matter of fact I’m on important business from King Kai. Personal mission. Top secret stuff.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Vegeta drawled, joining them, “he’s here because I asked him to come.”

“Huh?” Goku replied, “why?”

“I disapprove of holidays, and these ‘summer vacations’ are far too long away from training. The bug-man is here to make sure Trunks keeps his footwork up to par while we’re away from the gravity chamber.”

“C’mon dad, if I went Super Saiyan I could have…” Trunks began.

“It’s foolish to rely on the speed and power granted by the Super Saiyan transformation. Only fools and amateurs neglect the basics.”

“That’s great!” Goku said, excitedly, “and I was worried this was gonna be a boring trip!”

“Oh yeah, Goku,” Gregory turned to face him, “King Kai has a message he asked me to pass along.”

Gregory withdrew a small envelope from his pocket and removed a letter from within. He cleared his throat.

“I’M STILL DEAD, YOU SELFISH JERK!”


End file.
